


Tambourine

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Rick, M/M, Smut, Top Carl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU where the prison isn't overrun by The Governor and Carl grows up there.





	Tambourine

 

 

 

The first time Carl uses his name - _Rick_ \- warmth floods through him. He hates that he has to put an edge to his voice but Rick's desperate, gone into Dad mode.

Carl is nineteen and he is going on his first official run, not counting any of the ones he's done behind Rick's back. Peter and Tyrone are suiting up when Rick enters the block.

"Carl!" he roars loudly, as aggressively as he can. Like Carl is still a child. The tone of voice hasn't worked on him since he was thirteen when he realized it wasn't anger driving it. 

So Carl responds.

" _Rick._ " He says in a tone that brooks no arguments. Voice deep and full of strength.

It catches Rick up short. He's so stunned that when he tries to say something the words catch in his throat and he blinks dumbly. Carl tips his hat and is out of the cell block in the next minute.

 

 

Carl doesn't expect absolution or salvation for his actions. He is who he is. It's easier to think of that way, easier to dismiss what he owes Rick. 

He owes him normalcy and respect. To be the good man Rick raised.

What he doesn't owe him is _watching_ him all those years when he thought he was alone, touching him with intention when he'd been weak, and catching him off guard over and over again. 

He's never been good, doesn't even want to be, but he tries a little. It's just _in_ him - no matter how Rick raised him. He doesn't say what he's thinking half the time - like _kill that fuck we don't need them_  - because he doesn't want to break Rick's heart.

He doesn't make Rick watch himself be mastered either, feels if he pushes too hard he'll break him.

So he doesn't make Rick watch it - but he does do it.

 

 

The first time's less than a year ago.  

He'd crawled into Rick's bunk after a particularly brutal day, they had lost Carol, and Rick had been exhausted. Mind stuck, and Carl had been sure at the time that he was sleeping until tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes.

He'd crawled into Rick's bunk and inserted himself between his legs and pressed against him. Again and again and again. A steady slow rhythm like a drum beat.

Carl came, Rick never.

For a while he'd wondered if Rick had known it was him, until he realized he left his hat in the cell. And he never leaves it _anywhere_ but it had been days before he could work up the courage to go and get it.

Rick startles quietly around him sometimes after that but he doesn't say anything either.

 

 

The second time is much the same. It's dark though, and he doesn't think Rick can see him. He certainly can't see anything.

He paws at him. Rick's limp. Carl maneuvers him how he likes, revels in the warmth of his chest. 

Grunts in his ear when he cums because he hears Rick whine. Feels him buck mutely.

 

 

The third time - and Carl has been peeping on Rick in the shower for years, knows every inch of skin - Carl undresses him. He's unresistant as a doll, but his eyes are clenched shut as if he can escape the fact it's Carl by the sheer force of not seeing it.

It's then that Carl starts talking.

Tells him he wants _to fuck him so bad his balls ache_.

It's three sentences in, somewhere between Carl telling him how he wants to paint his face with cum and how Carl wants to feed his dick into Rick's pretty pink mouth that Rick convulses hard. It takes Carl a second to realize why. When he does he has to tamp down the sheer rush of dominance and pride that overtakes him. He has to remind himself that Rick isn't just a prize.

 

 

The filth pours from him after that.

He doesn't tell Rick he loves him though, not in this context, because he doesn't want to make him cry.

Instead he says things like _would love to have you fit my balls in your mouth - think you could? have you suck hard, struggling to breathe_ and _what kind of sounds do you think you would make bouncing on my dick?_

 

 

It's only the fifth time when he actually fucks him.

Rick squirms, bites his lip to keep quiet, and Carl blindfolds him so he won't have to put so much effort into keeping his eyes closed.

He fingers him, lubes him up generously. Sits back to take in the picture he's made of his Father - legs spread wide and trembling, hips twitching up uncontrollably and hard dick. His face and chest are flushed.

When Carl finally eases his own dick in Rick straight up moans. His mouth doesn't close after that, he gasps and pants. Chokes a little when Carl starts finger fucking his mouth in time with his thrusts.

 

 

The sixth time is special because it's in the shower. Carl's childhood fantasy. 

It goes so wrong that it goes right.

Rick isn't expecting it. He cowers under the spray, wide eyed. Tries to cover himself with his hands.

He stutters, starts stuttering and can't stop. _Sees_ Carl for that brief second before he clenches his eyes shut.

" _Ah!_ " Rick inhales sharply when Carl sticks his dick in," _C-C-Carl_." 

He pounds Rick so hard he hears his head smack against the tile. 

Carl doesn't talk, isn't really sure of the rules. 

He gets lost in the after glow of hearing his name.

 

 

In a year they're up to 86.

One of Carl's favorite's is 39, the first time Rick participated. He'd maneuvered Rick onto his lap - and he'd had to firmly grab his hips and forcibly push him down onto his dick because he'd squirmed so much - and Rick had rode him.

He hadn't been trying to. He'd shifted forward to get the pressure off and Carl had pushed him back, further impaling him.

And his mouth always dropped open when he was aroused.

"Look at your mouth, I could just stick my dick right in." Carl had said and that was all it took for Rick to move.

He'd grabbed Carl's shoulder, lifted up and slammed abruptly back down. Viciously impaling himself over and over again. Fucking down so hard the tops of Carl's thighs began to smart.

 

 

His absolute favorite is 86. 

Carl still remembers the little scrunches at the side of Rick's eyes from clenching, the fluttering of his eyelashes as if he were about to open them.

He'd kissed him there then, and then kissed him more everywhere except his mouth.

 

 

It's after that first run, and Carl is fresh off victory and a payload, that he realizes Rick is looking at him. A little differently, a little more intensively and extended. 

But it's only when Carl herds Rick into his cell that it happens.

It's only a second or two but it feels like an eternity. Like a life changing moment.

Rick actually takes a moment to _look_ at him before squeezing his eyes shut.

Carl's heart races. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
